Sic Itur Ad Astra
by dude where's my rig
Summary: From the moment Commander Shepard stepped onto the SSV Normandy, things would never be the same. For one thing, there went his retirement plans. A left of canon retelling of Mass Effect with deeper worldbuilding and more of a military fiction feeling. Slow burn Sheply.
1. Prologue

Systems Alliance Navy Yard, Arcturus Station

Arcturus Station saw the arrival and departure of Navy ships at its docks like clockwork. It saw reunions and goodbyes, kisses and tears, thanks offered to different gods and flag-draped coffins off-loaded to the sound of a bugle and the clicking of camera drones.

This departure was more of the same. There was just a bit more brass involved.

The champagne had been smashed. The Minister of Defence, Admiral Hackett and the Hierarchy Ambassador had given their speeches and had retreated to a nice restaurant somewhere while the crew finished final preparations. This was a sign of Citadel-human co-operation, a leap forward for humanity on the galactic stage. AAN was even doing a special on the unclassified details.

Commander Émile Shepard leant against a railing, resisting the urge to fiddle with his cap as Corporal Jenkins said goodbye to his girlfriend. The formal Navy hat was rubbing against his implant every time he moved. It was true that the dress uniforms cut a dashing figure- hence why half the crew were strutting around like peacocks in front of the crowd, enjoying the attention- but they had just had to put a seam there.

"Be careful," She said, her voice barely audible above the swell of voices, her hands on his shoulders.

"It's just a shakedown cruise. You worry too much. I'll show the higher ups what I can do, see if I can get that promotion to Sergeant, and I'll be back before you know it." He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Jenkins had been telling the other Marines that he was planning to propose after this tour, once they could afford the ring and the wedding. (Corporal Draven had rolled her eyes and muttered that if she and Rosamund had managed it on a Serviceman Second Class and a Lance Corporal's wages, he was just dragging his feet. That night had degenerated until Alenko had flung Jenkins across the cargo bay with his biotics, much to the Corporal's delight.)

Shepard glanced around at the crowd of people, half in Alliance blue, then at the matte black hull of the ship cradled in the docking apparatus beside them. The finest ship in the Alliance, according to her captain and her pilot. They'd chewed off Shepard's ear about the damn thing ever since he'd arrived back on Arcturus for the ship's shakedown cruise.

"Besides," Jenkins told his wife, "Alenko's got my back, don't you sir?"

"Of course," He heard the Staff Lieutenant reply, with one of his gentle smiles. That was when the ship's captain stepped up to Émile, gazing at the ship. He snapped off a salute and Anderson returned it absent-mindedly. His medals glinted dully in the artificial light.

"So, what do you think of the Normandy, Shepard?"

Shepard followed his gaze, traced over the sleek lines of the ship, predatory even at rest, the torpedos nuzzled against the hull, the Alliance symbol stark white against the dark paint job. The Normandy was a beautiful ship, "Haven't made up mind yet, sir. We'll see once she's been in action." The space trials had simply been for testing. She might've passed them with only the need for a few repairs and alterations, but the true test would be the maiden voyage.

"Ever the cynic, Commander," He chuckled, pride of his new command written in his posture. Shepard was still wondering who had decided to trial a turian CIC on a human ship, particularly since the bridge was separate from the cockpit. He'd have to use a comm or leave his post to give orders to the helmsman. And considering who the main helmsman was...

"Realist, sir," He said mildly. They were alone, the crowd at their backs. Nothing but the Normandy before them.

"Come on Shepard, there's someone you need to meet." He fell in step at Anderson's side, as he always had.

They moved through the tearful goodbyes and hurried sailors rushing around, the Alliance crew quick to give them space, to a small knot of people near the airlock. The most decorated enlisted sailor of the crew was there, looking like she was ready to deck someone.

But then again, Master Chief Negulesco always looked pissed off, and the fact that the man talking to her, dressed in a hardsuit no less, was a turian wasn't going to improve her mood. Negulesco had gotten the Navy Cross on her chest leading survivors of her ship that had been shot down over Shanxi and the woman had never forgotten nor forgiven.

"Captain, Commander," She said, saluting. The turian turned to them, his eyes settling on Shepard. He felt himself tensing, prickling going down his spine as he returned Negulesco's salute. Those eyes looked like they were systematically disassembling him, looking for fault. He couldn't tell if he came out of the analysis well or not.

"Commander, I'd like you to meet Agent Nihlus Kryik, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. Nihlus, this is Commander Émile Shepard."

A Spectre. He glanced at Anderson, looking for an explanation. Spectres were something out of the vids, playing hard and fast with the rules in order to do the Council's dirty work. This guy could theoretically take out that sidearm he was carrying in the middle of a controlled deck, slot all three of them and get away with it. Joint venture with the turians or not, why would he be interested in the maiden voyage of an Alliance warship? The Council was already receiving full reports about the Normandy.

"Nice to meet you," He settled on.

"Nihlus will be joining us for the Normandy's first journey," Captain Anderson said, like it was nothing out of the ordinary. And yet, it almost seemed a warning.

Shepard tried to keep the frown of his face, but Negulesco looked as thoroughly disquietened as he did. He hoped they weren't escorting the guy to go assassinate someone or something. "I'm afraid it'll probably be both uncomfortable and boring compared to your normal journeys, Spectre Nihlus."

There wasn't a great deal of spare space on a ship as small as the Normandy, particularly with its over-sized drive core. While they didn't have all of their Marine complement onboard-they'd be picking up a few extras during stop-over, a minor hassle due to Anderson's decision to handpick every person onboard-everyone was hotbunking as it was. Only the captain had a bed and not a sleep pod.

Nihlus twitched his mandibles in an equivalent to a smile, "The Normandy is close to luxury compared to some of the places I've slept, Commander."

Anderson cut in, "Now everyone's introduced, I say we go aboard and get this bird flying."

Nihlus followed the Captain into the airlock, while Shepard fell into lockstep with the Master Chief. They exchanged wary glances and quiet words.

"A Spectre, huh?"

Negulesco scowled, "Fuckin' politics, sir. Don't like them bein' all mixed up in my ship's business."

Quietly Shepard said, "As far as the crew's concerned, this is business as usual, Master Chief."

The last thing they needed was an anxious crew. No doubt there were a few smart or paranoid enough to work it out- Pressly would be pitching a fit about this when he found out but there was no reason to make things worse by the command crew being noticeably on edge. Negulesco nodded, "Yessir. But I'll be keepin' my eye on our ally, yeah?"

Shepard gave Anderson an appraising look. They'd worked together before- hell, Shepard would happily admit he'd follow the man to hell without a word of complaint- and he liked to think he knew the captain well from their days in the dirt, out on the frontier and then when Shepard had been his Marine Detachment commander on the Tokyo. This surgically clean dock on Arcturus was a world away from sleeping in a foxhole with mortar shells bursting above your head, but Anderson's shoulders were stiff, like someone had a gun muzzle pressed into the small of his back.

They emerged into the CIC, boots clicking against the metal deck. Captain Anderson called to Shepard, "You've got the deck, Commander. Soon as the crew's aboard, set a course for the Relay. I'll show Spectre Kryik around the ship."

"Aye aye sir."

While he waited for the last of the crew to report aboard for the 11:00 CST departure, Shepard headed for the cockpit. No doubt Lieutenant Moreau was already at his post- the man was practically salivating over the thought of flying the ship without a dozen bureaucrats and engineers watching over his shoulder.

Joker was lounging in his helmsman's chair, looking over his displays. He tugged at his cap as Shepard walked in, "The dog and pony show over yet?"

"Looks like. Everything good up here?"

"Yup," Joker said, popping the 'p' in the word, "You can stop watching over my shoulder now." At Shepard's flat look, he added, "Sir." After a moment Joker twisted carefully in his seat to look at him, "So, it true there's a Spectre aboard?"

"Yes. Nihlus Kryik. Try not to piss him off, huh?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, you." Then with a touch of irony he added, "As you were, Flight Lieutenant."

Back on the bridge, Shepard stepped up onto the commander's podium and began plotting the ship's course on the galaxy map.

"All hands aboard," The VI advised him in that bland mechanical voice.

He hit the comm, "All hands, prepare for departure. Serviceman Wei," He had to look at her name tape to make sure he got her name right, "Get us clearance for departure and a vector to the Relay."

Barely a pause before the comms specialist replied, "Clearance granted, sir."

"Take us out nice and slow, helm. Once we're clear of the station, half ahead speed. Course is plotted to Arcturus Prime relay. We're jumping to Utopia- once we're through I want us headed to Eden Prime, stealth systems engaged and full ahead. Time to see how she does with all that heat."

The whole ship shivered as the thrusters hummed to life, the Tantalus core like a heart starting to beat. On the dock family and loved ones waved as the docking clamps peeled away from the black matte hull. None of the crew could see the last goodbyes, focused instead on the frigate as it eased free of Arcturus' hold, slipping into the void between stars.

At first Joker coasted along the route out of Arcturus. The Normandy's thrusters at the power required to take to fling them into FTL could melt anything behind them into so much slag, and the space around the Alliance's capital was thick with ships both military and civilian.

A few of the crew were catching last glimpses of Arcturus Station and the Fifth fleet over the ship's cameras. Shepard took one last long gaze himself. He'd spent more time out in the Traverse or on a ship these last few years than at the capital, but it was something close to being home.

A prickle crawled down his spine and he glanced at the door in time to see the Spectre walk into the CIC. The Marines on guard duty glanced at each other, seemingly at loss as to what to do about a Spectre just waltzing onto the bridge.

Nihlus had that same calculating look on his face and he was again looking at Shepard. It was hard enough concentrating on not fucking up commanding a starship- sure, he was trained in it but he'd spent far longer commanding Marines or on N7 missions- without a famous Spectre watching him doing it.

"We're clear of traffic, sir. Entering FTL."

The ship's cameras turning off were the only sign the ship was entering FTL for those inside the ship. Deep in thought, Shepard barely noticed Nihlus heading for the cockpit- where Alenko had surfaced. The various displays before the officer of the deck were a blur of blue and orange, haptic interfaces in his fingertips a low sort of buzz as he flicked through indicators of the ship's performance.

The future of the Alliance's stealth project hinged on this voyage. The Normandy was horrifically expensive, but he was starting to understand why Anderson was so enthused. She was faster than any other ship Émile had served on and there was something exhilarating about being on board her. And, if she succeeded, she would be an unparalleled long distance recon and special forces insertion vessel. If the brainiacs in R&amp;D could downsize the tech to shuttles and corvettes…

Well, it might be the edge the Alliance needed in its border conflict with the Hegemony.

Alright, that was probably wishful thinking. The politicians were all too willing to expand the Alliance's borders, but never to give the military the hammer needed to secure the colonies.

"We are connected. Calculating transit mass and destination." Joker reported.

Shepard spoke strongly, glancing to where he could just see Nihlus' back, "All hands, all hands, this is the bridge. Secure your stations for Mass Relay transit." Lights in front of him switched from green to orange as the crew turned off the ship's sensors and the damage control team stood to.

Not that'd do them much good if their FTL field collapsed during transit and the radiation fried them all like calamari on grill. Particularly since they had the untried IES system, and god knew what effect that thing could have on them if something failed. Still, it was protocol.

"All stations are secure, Commander," Lieutenant Commander Pressly, the ship's navigator and second officer, advised him from his console.

"Roger. Joker, begin the approach."

"The Relay is hot. Acquiring approach vector."

With the CIC working smoothly, Shepard stepped off the command podium and headed back to the cockpit. Whether he was going to save Joker and Alenko from Nihlus or stop Joker from starting a war with the Citadel, he wasn't quite sure.

"The board is green," Joker said as Shepard came to stand behind the pilot's seat, "Approach run has began."

Through the shutters of the cockpit windows he could see the first flickering tendrils of blue light, and the remnants of the sheer joy and excitement he'd felt during his first transit stirred in his belly.

"Hitting the Relay in 3...2...1…"

There would never be another moment like this.

The frigate, dwarfed by the massive, ancient Relay, was swallowed by the blue light and abruptly was flung across space, as if by a sling shot. Due to the inertia dampeners, the most Shepard felt was a tuck in his stomach.

They were through. Joker began to sound off the ship's systems, but Shepard barely needed to look at the ship's readout to know that everything was good.

Nihlus finally spoke, "1500 is good. Your captain will be pleased."

And then he abruptly about-faced and walked out. Shepard watched him go, looking a bit bemused.

Joker and Alenko began to bicker but he paid it little attention. Banter was a way to keep people's minds off the stress of their jobs and build unit cohesion. Brilliance and good records or not, cohesion was something the Normandy's crew lacked.

Hell, he was still having trouble remembering the difference between Brown in engineering and Brown in supply.

"Bridge, this is the captain. Status report."

Shepard replied over the comm, "Clear of the Relay, sir. All sensors are green and the stealth system is engaged. Everything's solid so far."

"Good. Get us linked into the nearest comm buoys and status reports relayed back to Command before we reach Eden Prime."

"Aye aye sir." Shepard replied, relaying the command to Serviceman Third Class Wei. Then he looked over at Alenko, who was gazing out at the blueshift surrounding the warship, "Alenko, if you're free, I'll leave the deck to Pressly and Joker and we can go over some stuff I'd like to get sorted out before we have to send your Marines groundside."

"Yessir." Alenko agreed, picking himself up. They headed for the XO's office, dodging busy sailors and officers. Shepard had taken an immediate liking to the guy. He was level-headed, controlled. He came out of the shit the military flung at him calm and adjusted.

Shepard wondered how much of that calm came from necessity, from having to fight back in his own way against the talk around L2s and their 'instabilities'. He'd never ask him that, but sometimes Émile thanked god that he'd narrowly missed BAaT, even if it meant he was stuck with the lower baseline of a L3 implant.

They sat down and Shepard brought up the Marine Detachment's table of organisation on his omnitool, "You're still down a troop sergeant, right?"

All of the Marines aboard the Normandy were from the 103rd Marine Division, a direct action special forces unit. N5s, most of them. While he'd gone to ICT too, as an N7 he hadn't spent too much time working with the 103rd. When the 103rd went into combat, you heard about it. Usually when they'd taken a spaceport in under eight hours or something like that. The signs of an N7 strike were usually a disorientated enemy who suddenly had no commanders left.

Alenko nodded, "Corporal Jenkins is filling in. Anderson said we're picking up Staff Sergeant Duran on Eden Prime, right?"

Shepard frowned just a bit, "They've got Ns on Eden Prime?"

The lieutenant shrugged, "Trainers attached to the garrison brigades, as far as I know, sir."

"Right. Just...keep an eye on Jenkins, alright? He's a great combat Marine but he...loses his head sometimes. He's got his mind stuck on that promotion, not on doing his job."

Alenko opened his mouth to reply when Anderson's voice came over the comm, "Commander Shepard to the comms room."


	2. Chapter One: Eden Falling

_70km out from Constant, Eden Prime_

Serviceman Second Class Nirali Bhatia sighed, staring down at her cards with a 'woe is me' expression before thumping them into the table, "I fold."

Sergeant Penny Blake chuckled, "Your poker face is _shit." _

"Fuck off," Bhatia told her squad leader genially, leaning back in her chair.

Staff Sergeant Ashley Williams watched her platoon mates with a carefully blank expression, glancing down her cards, "Raise." She slid three instant coffee packets into the middle of the table, to join a few other packets, a chocolate energy bar and two packets of the only flavour of energy drink powder that didn't taste like shit.

Lieutenant Accardi was a bit of a puritan or something. Had something against betting and cleared out the barracks of porn at least once a week. Williams had managed to convince him to allow poker so long as they didn't use credits. It was like he liked her or anything- the way he sneered 'Williams' was proof of that- but at least he had the brains to know that she could make this command exceedingly uncomfortable for him, which gave him some points.

Some of the others...well, Ashley had quickly learnt the art of sarcasm and life-ruining while just staying on _this _side of insubordination.

Besides, snacks were practically currency, what with the battalion stood to. Their platoon had patrol tomorrow too, which meant the Marine with the nicest snacks was going to be _popular. _

They were holed up in some prefabs near where the scientists were playing in the dirt, stuffed into the only accommodation the battalion had managed to rustle up. Ash had the sneaking suspicion that they were storage buildings- they had a faint smell of fertilizer, and combined with a dozen sweaty young men...well, it was practically fragrant. The little village they were in was sparsely populated, consisting of farms, a couple of warehouses and the spaceport, far enough out from Constant that larger freighters could land without squishing something. The high speed monorail connected the port to the capital, shipping grain off world and bringing in supplies like clockwork.

She was starting to miss the barracks back on-base in Constant.

Sooner this beacon thing was off planet the better. The only details they'd gotten was to dig in and wait for the Navy to come play delivery man for the Citadel.

It didn't sit quite right with her. The Alliance had discovered the beacon, they should be able to study it. It'd been their study on Mars that had led to the Alliance even being formed in the first place- and who was to say that the Alliance would even get any benefit out of this discovery if it got locked up by some Council scientists?

"Call," Penny said and so they lay down their cards.

"Nice doing business with you, Penny," Ashley smirked as the other sergeant groaned at the sight of her full house, pulling the pile of snacks towards her with both arms.

That was her caffeine addiction fed for the week.

"Another hand?" Penny asked as she started shuffling the deck.

Williams smirked, "Do you have anything left to lose to me?"

The other Marine grinned, brushing red hair out of her bright eyes, "Just the shirt off my back, Staff Sergeant."

Bhatia rolled her eyes, saying over Ash's laughter, "Alright, that's it for me."

"Can't handle heat, Nirali?"

"Yeah, that's one way to put it." The Indian woman muttered, pushing back her chair and getting up, shaking her head.

"Come on, Navy!" Penny yelled after her. Unlike the rest of the platoon, Nirali was in the Navy, and so, she got all the shit for joining the wrong service branch. Most of the enlisted Marines, outside of some of the sergeants, were fresh out of boot. Most of them had never needed to learn to how valuable the corpsman was, Navy or not.

Eden Prime was a sleepy inner colony, well behind the Navy's patrol lines. Even without the the cruiser and two frigates in system, there were still the four orbital defence platforms to deal with.

Ashley felt a frown tugging at her forehead. Penny had already seen combat as part of the 7th Infantry and was on a rotation off the front- soon as the regulation time was up, she'd be sent back out. Most of these green Marines would be off to the fleet with a bit of garrison experience behind them.

And she would still be here. Her technical scores were better than anyone here. She could outshoot the designated marksman. She could outrun Lieutenant Taylor during their rounds of the base in Constant. She was a far better tactician than Lieutenant Accardi.

She was _meant _to be out there in the fleet, protecting humanity, kicking _ass_. But officers like Accardi looked at her and saw her last name and nothing else.

Maybe she ought to just leave the Alliance. But it felt a lot like giving up and- well, three generations of her family had served before her. Williamses had served the Alliance since it _was_ the Alliance. She was meant to be a Marine.

She blinked as Penny snapped her fingers in front of her face, "Penny to Ash, are you there?"

"Your radio protocol is shit," Ash muttered, stuffing her winnings into her bag to Penny's aggrieved sigh.

"Hey, I'll join!" One of the other squad leaders, Sergeant Lee called over.

"So long as you keep _your_ shirt on," Penny muttered.

"Come on, I bet every chick in here wants to see my manly, manly abs."

"I'm gay as fuck, Lee." Blake shot back.

"You haven't looked at my _sculpted _physique, Sergeant."

"The 21st century called," One of the other Marines called, "They want their childish machismo back!"

"Childish? Under this uniform I am _all _man."

"Alright Marine," Ashley's stern voice cut through the banter like a knife severing a string, "Stow that."

"Aye aye Sergeant." Lee muttered, with something close to a pout.

"I'm turning in," Ash said , flicking the last of the cards to Penny who put them back in the box. She was the only one who bothered with real cards in the entire company. Maybe even the battalion. "Try not to punch Lee in the mouth, alright?" Lee seemed to think he was charming enough that Penny should at least be nice to him. Penny disagreed.

"I'll restrain myself," Penny promised.

"Mhm…" Ash muttered disbelievingly as she headed to her bunk. Penny and restraint were two things rarely associated.

She was woken by a blaring klaxon and her commlink blaring into her ears. "3rd Platoon, stand to. 3rd Platoon, stand to."

She rolled out of her bunk, still half asleep, jolted awake by the impact of her knees against the cool plastisteel floor. She shook herself, trying to hear the Leader-Sergeant channel clearly, "Shield-1 6, this is Shield-1 Actual. I want the Marines in full battle dress and at the rally point ASAP, over." Lieutenant Accardi's voice was taunt.

"Roger, Shield-1 Actual. Shield-1 6 out." The fuck was going on? Ashley shook her head again, letting the apprehension trickle out of her. She had one task- get these lazy fuck Marines out of bed and into their hardsuits. She reached to the bunk above hers and shook Penny's shoulder roughly, "Blake! Get the fuck up!"

Penny groaned, flinging an arm over her face, "Ashley, it's not patrol time yet."

"Don't fuckin' sleep on duty, Sergeant. Get your squad armoured up and at the rally point _now!" _

"Wha-?" The other Marine was still confused, but the order had sunk in and she was shucking off her covers and stumbling towards her kit. Ashley repeated the process with the other three squad sergeants.

Once they were awake Ashley strode into the larger room where the enlisted were sleeping and shouted, "Boots on, Marines!" She pushed the nearest Marine off her sleeping mat with her foot when she swore sleepily, "Don't make you throw you into your fuckin' suit, Gae!"

"Yes Sergeant!" Gae yelped.

"Ash?" Bhatia asked, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. Penny grabbed her by her shoulder, physically steering her toward her hardsuit, face set in hard, brisk lines.

"Enough tongue-wagging, Serviceman. That's what briefings are for! Get suited up!"

Content that the platoon was awake or getting there, the warehouse echoing with their voices and the clatter of armour and webbing, Ash went in search of her own gear. First was the under-armour- a carbon nanotube polymer jumpsuit with gel pads. Over that went the hardsuit itself, consisting of ballistic weave and ceramic plates. She put on her helmet, sealing the whole system and running startup diagnostics on her suit computer.

On her HUD were the biosigns of her platoon, minimised except for a few- her lieutenant and the squad leaders.

She pulled on her webbing, magnetised her guns to her hardsuit and headed for the rally point shouting at any stragglers. The Lieutenant was already at the rally point, hands behind his back, rifle slung across his chest.

"Sir," She said, saluting. Penny's Second Squad was spilling out of the platoon's quarters, armed and armoured.

"Staff Sergeant Williams," Accardi replied, returning the salute. At her expectant look he said curtly, "All extra-planetary comms are down. Contingency Homeguard's been declared."

"_Fuck." _Ash muttered. Contingency Homeguard was only ever declared in expectation of attack. Eden Prime- it didn't get _attacked. _"We headed back to Constant then?" The plans Ashley had looked over when she'd first been assigned as Third Platoon's sergeant ordered the 212 Frontier Brigade to protect the capital of 2.3 million.

Accardi shook his head, "Our orders haven't changed. We're to dig in here to protect the dig site."

Her mouth twisted, "They really fucking want this thing don't they?"

"Find of the century, Williams. Call the troops to attention, would you?

Well, apparently archaeology was more important than the fucking colony these days. Scowling, Ashley spun on her heel and bellowed, "TEN-HUT!"

The platoon snapped to attention.

This was going to bad. Fucking _bad. _Eden Prime had little in the way of military infrastructure. The 212 was a mixture of Marines weary of campaigns on the Traverse and officers put out to pasture, green enlisted and junior officers straight out of the academy or ROTC. Their company didn't even have enough Makos for all the platoons for fuck's sake.

Accardi took a breath audible to Ashley before he spoke.

…

Eden Prime was still, early morning stretching across the one continent most of the human population lived on. The city of Constant was still and silent, farms and the monorail extending from it like spokes on a wheel.

It didn't last.

Third Platoon, Bravo Company, 212th Marines had taken their defensive positions on the west sector of the dig site when the geth broke through the atmosphere, fire sheeting off the insectoid like dropships. Patrolling drones sounded the alarm. Unidentified contact.

The orbital defence platforms had no time to warn the ground troops. Their GARDIAN batteries barely got off a few shots before red light lanced from the open maw of something out of a nightmare, cutting through shields with contemptuous ease, and slicing through the station. Decompression took care of the rest.

The defensive flotilla had been out on active recon. A week later, bits of wreckage would be found floating in the dark.

Afterwards, the day will come to Ashley Williams in flashes. Vivid, like scenes playing on a holovision screen, without any rhyme or reason.

…

"The _fuck _is that?" Lance Corporal Bates breathed out, halting so abruptly that PFC Hyung walked into his back, swearing at him as she more or less bounced off the mountain of a man.

"Not the fucking blinks, that's for sure," Corporal Johansson muttered, using the Alliance slang for batarians.

Descending out of the heavens, lighting dancing of its hull, was a ship. But it was black, and strange, and more than twice the size of any Alliance dreadnought and it shouldn't be able _to do that. _Something clenched around Ash's heart like a fist. As it landed, the land beneath it burned.

"Fuck," Penny breathed out. While the other squads had dug in, Penny's squad was on patrol, and Ash had been ordered to go with her. Accardi was always trying to get rid of her.

And then the world split with a _horrible, horrible _klaxon-like screech that burnt itself into Ashley's ears. And red light sprung from one of the dreadnought's strange tentacle-like appendages. Cut through the air, met concrete, plastisteel, flesh.

"No!" Nirali's' voice was terror and denial wrapped up together, "The base!"

Ash could feel the blood draining from her face. The entire brigade was stationed out of Fort Nuev, the garrison general, the brigadier, civilian contractors, families-

Penny was whispering, "Oh no," And staring blankly at the dreadnought. They were Marines, they were supposed to fight _people, _things you could kill with bullets. They were insects to that thing, _useless. _

"Hold it together," She snapped, smacking Penny's shoulder to jolt her out of her shock. "We've got incoming!"

A grey-steel insect-like dropship was dropping out of the clouds towards the dig site. She could see at least a couple moving towards Constant but- she couldn't worry about that. Not now. She'd just have to pray that the General had survived and there were enough Marines left in Constant to defend the civilians. She prayed that some of the aircraft and artillery units were still around- it'd be a quick fight if they were already gone.

She hit her comm, "Shield-1 Actual, this is Shield-1 Six, we have incoming unidentified contacts. Transmitting estimated enemy LZ now, over." A few taps of her omnitool and her guess was sent to the Lieutenant.

"Roger, Shield-1 Six. We've received orders to oppose the enemy landing from Shield. Transmitting RV point, over."

"Copy that, Shield-1 Actual. Shield-1 Six out." On her map popped up a few indicators from the company as well as the RV. The company's chief corpsman had set up a CCP, a casualty collection point.

Penny was at her side in an instant, waiting for orders. Beyond them, Constant burned, thick plumes of smoke darkening the sun. The squad were watching and whispering, in between the fireteam leaders snapping at them to keep watching their sectors.

"We're linking up with the rest of the platoon here," She murmured, blinking twice at her HUD so all members of the platoon would see the RV point. If they were attacked or separated, at least all of the Marines would know where to find the platoon, "We're gonna hit them when they land, try and stop them getting a foothold."

"Aye aye," Sergeant Blake replied. The walk to the rendezvous was tense and silent. There was no banter or joking, nothing but steely silence, rage transcending fear. She adjusted her grip on her marksman rifle.

…

They crested a hill, shielded by trees. A branch cracked underneath Ashley's armoured foot. The rest of the platoon was just up ahead. She opened her comm, "Shield-1, this is Shield-1 2, friendlies coming in on your nine o'clock, hold your fire, over."

"Roger that, Shield-1 2-shit-" Accardi, usually such a stickler for protocol and proper radio, breaking off a transmission like that? Ash picked up the pace, even as she heard gunfire from up ahead.

Her attempts to get anything about the enemy's position out of the lieutenant fell on deaf ears.

She took a knee at the edge of the trees overlooking Shield-1's position, gesturing for Corporal Johansson, the designated marksman and the only other one with a Vindicator and scope. Penny got her squad into a line formation, coiled for action.

Bracing her rifle, Ash looked through the scope, sweeping it across the terrain. She spotted the dull grey-blue of Alliance Marines- and they looked hard-pressed. And there-

Silver-white metal, bipedal, very clearly not human or even _organic. _A lot of them. As she watched they managed to disarm Sergeant Liang and began dragging him towards some strange contraption.

"The fuck?" Johansson whispered. Ash ignored him, turning to Penny, "We'll pick off a few from this range, see if we can draw some of them this way. Flanking maneuver, from bearing 307."

The basic tenet of Alliance tactics was simple- pin the enemy in place with the unit's suppressive weapons and then have a mobile element loop around and hit them where it hurt, right in the flank. In this case, Penny was setting up the two LMGs, consisting of four Marines in total, in a gully just below where Ash was kneeling. If the two marksmen could draw the enemy out, they would open fire on them. And the rest of Penny's squad would loop around to avoid their fire hitting the platoon and attack, hopefully destroying the enemy or forcing them to retreat.

When Penny called over the comm 'Ready' to signify that they were in position, she told Johansson to open fire. Staring through her scope herself, the reticle came to rest over the geth that had captured Sergeant Liang. As she watched, the contraption _speared _the the squad leader's chest, like his armour wasn't even there, lifting him towards the sky. And he wasn't the only one. The limp forms of spaceport workers were there as well.

That was just fucking _sick. _Ashley took a certain grim satisfaction at putting a bullet right in that robot's flashlight. With an electronic squeal, it fell, most of what seemed to be its head blown off.

Johansson missed. He swore and readjusted but with lightning speed the enemy reacted, finding cover and taking a few shots in their general direction.

Ashley breathed in, smoothly sighting, aiming and pulling the trigger in a single flowing movement. The shot was deflected off her target's shields, but they had their attention.

"They're moving to attack," Johansson warned her.

She had to give it to them. They were both fast and disciplined, not opening themselves to being picked off. In the corner of her eye on her HUD she could see the blue markers of Penny's squad moving to flank. She fired a few shots to make sure they didn't get rushed.

The one thing organics had in common was a tendency to lose their nerve under sniper fire. It was horrifying, to be the guy with the assault rifle under long range accurate fire, knowing someone was looking at them through the scope, ready to kill them in cold blood. But these machines, these fucking _monsters _had pinpointed her location very quickly and even a lucky shot from Johansson that took down one of the red ones hardly slowed their advance

Geth. They had to be. It was the only thing that made sense. Memories of old documentaries played on a loop in her head. She'd always liked military history, found the story of the quarians both fascinating and heart wrenching.

"They're in range!" One of the LMG guys called.

"Light 'em up!" Ash called, just before a bright flash streaked towards her and Johansson. "Fu-" She shoved Johansson and dove to the other side, hitting the ground in a dull thud of ceramics, in the moment before the rocket hit. Her ears rang as she pushed herself to her feet, hearing voices on the radio, the _thud-thud-thud _of the machineguns as if from far away.

Johansson was on the ground, very still and quiet, staring down at where his leg used to be. She stumbled toward him, yelling for Bhatia. The Indian woman came at a run, dropping to her knees beside him and reaching for a medigel tube.

She shook herself, getting her bearings back in the midst of the confusion. Penny had executed the flanking maneuver ruthlessly- the geth were wrecks of metal now. But the price had been high. There were too many blue figures on the ground, bleeding into the green grass of Eden Prime.

Ash was met halfway by Sergeant Lee. He'd lost his helmet at some point and there was blood trickling down his face from a cut above his eye. He stared almost blankly at her, "Staff Sergeant. Accardi is dead."

"I have command," Ash said and her voice was steady, "We're going to disengage and retreat towards the dig site."

"I'm going to try and send a short range message on military frequencies," He told her, fiddling with his omnitool. "Fuckin' Navy should've sent a ship to see about the blackout by now, right?"

"Do it."

He managed to get the broadcast going. That was, of course, when everything went straight to hell.

The loud whine of thrusters screamed towards them. Her stomach dropped with a sickening thud. Her hand latched onto Lee's arm, shoving him off his feet "Scatter! Air strike! Scatter! Get down now, damn you all!"

The missile hit, but all Ash could hear was ringing, her ears overwhelmed by the sound. She was in the dirt, blood warm on her chin from where she'd bitten her lip, her arm across Lee's shoulders.

_I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my _

_fortress: my God, in him will I trust. _

Praying was all that she could do. It was an anti-personnel missile and it had done its duty with horrible efficiency. Flechettes carved through the platoon like a butcher's knife, tearing through armour and shields like they weren't there. Ash pulled herself to the lip of the ditch she'd tumbled into with Lee and smelt the metallic tang of blood.

"Retreat!" She shouted to the survivors, "Regroup in the trees! Let's go!"

Not five metres away was a familiar figure. Penny's helmet visor was smashed, bits of plastic warped and hanging loose. Her left arm was bent awkwardly behind her head. Ash fixated on that and her face, only a bit scratched up. She didn't look below her chest, at the red ruin the shrapnel had made of her friend.

Nirali stumbled to Penny, falling to her knees and pulling out her kit. Her hands shook as she tried to decide which wound to try and treat first.

Ash gently pulled Penny's helmet off, brushed off what bits of visor had fallen onto her face. Penny's eyes were fixed and dull, gazing at something past Ashley's shoulder.

Nirali's voice was close to a sob as she rolled her into the recovery position, "Fuck. _Fuck." _

"Get in the trees, Serviceman," Ash said distantly. Penny's suit, damaged as it was, was still transmitting her lifesigns. A flat line. "There's nothing you can do for her."

She gently pulled free her friend's dog tags, removing one. She heard Bhatia start moving for the trees as she tucked the bloody triangle of metal away. She started to get up, paused, staring at Penny's slack face and then pulled the battered pack of cards they'd been playing with last night out of her webbing. "Catch ya on the flipside, Pennyloafer."

And then Ashley stood and started running. Behind her she heard the electronic squealing of the geth in pursuit.


End file.
